


Sneak Attack

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debi surprises the Colonel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneak Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #7 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"She is growing up, isn't she."_

 

          Suzanne McCullough watched her daughter as Debi pulled her T-shirt off and took the blouse the microbiologist held out for her.  The woman tilted her head to the side slightly, watching the thirteen-year-old with a growing sense of wonderment.

          "Uh, Deb, wait a second, sweetheart."

          The blonde head came up, the face a mask of perplexity.  "For what, Mom?"

          "I need to get something before you put that shirt on."

          Debi watched her mother slip out of the large dressing room, her confusion growing.  Shrugging, the girl laid the western cut shirt aside and reached for the light cotton skirt that looked like denim.  She'd just stepped into the full, mid-calf raiment when Suzanne reappeared.

          "What?" Debi asked, frustrated that her mother was dragging the shopping trip out by hiding whatever it was behind her back.

          "Ta-da," Suzanne replied, holding out a wad of white that she let fall, revealing a bra.  "Looks like you're growing up, Chicken."

          "A bra?" Debi asked, her voice a mix of excitement and dread.  "But, Mom—"

          "I know, I know, but you can still be a tomboy, believe me."  Suzanne smiled at the girl.  "I felt the same way at your age, but I think the time has come."

          Debi looked down at her slowly developing chest.  It was true she'd wondered when it was going to happen, even looked forward to it in a weird sort of way that she couldn't quite figure out, but, at the same time, there was a fear that somehow this would take away her freedom to remain "one of the guys."

          Tentatively she took the undergarment and with Suzanne instruction, shrugged into it.

          "It itches," she complained.

          "You'll get used to it – I promise.  It's not as bad as it seems."

          The look Debi gave her spoke clearly of the girl's doubt on that count, but Suzanne couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.  The fringed shirt followed and Debi stopped to really look at herself in the full-length mirror.

          "Wow," she said softly.  "I don't look like me."

          "You look terrific," Suzanne said, stepping up behind her to smile at her in the glass.  "A young lady, and a very pretty one at that."

          "You think this'll be okay for the dance?"

          "Oh, I think you're going to have one of the nicest outfits there, Chicken."

          Debi grinned, her cheeks rosy.  "I'm glad the Colonel reminded me to get the boots.  Oh, I asked my teacher to include some Indian dances, too, but the gym teachers only knew western dances."  She paused and practiced a quick Texas two-step.  "I bet the Colonel knows some Indian dances.  Maybe he could show me."

          Suzanne stifled another big grin.  "I doubt that, Debi.  Paul knows a lot about his people's history, but I doubt he ever learned their dances."  She just couldn't imagine him, dressed in native grab, complete with feathers, dancing around a large fire like she'd seen at the national powwow in Arizona one year.  But that was when she and Cash were still married, before Debi had been born.  She reconsidered.  Maybe Paul would know, but she seriously doubted he'd ever give them a demonstration.

          "He has a book on them," Debi said.  "I borrowed it so I could learn a dance and show the kids.  I didn't have any music, though.  They made fun of me…" she finished, trailing off.

          Suzanne wiped a hand across her mouth.  Her daughter was quite taken by the Army Special Forces Lieutenant Colonel.  The man was also uncommonly patient with the girl, telling her stories about his people's past, teaching her to ride the horses on the property, and generally being a perfectly good father figure for the rapidly maturing girl.  At times the microbiologist was sure Debi thought she was an Indian herself.  It had to create some tensions between Deb and her classmates, even if the teenager was unaware of them.

          "Well, I don't think that was very nice of them to laugh at you, but you have to admit, Native American dances aren't something they're likely to have experienced, or thought much about."

          "I guess so," Debi said, twirling around and watching the full skirt fill with air.  "Mom, can I wear this home?"

          Suzanne gave her daughter a hug.  "Sure, Chicken.  You can show it off to everyone."  Mood swings at thirteen were anything but predictable.

          "I wish the dance wasn't next week.  I'm ready to go _now_."

          "Have you picked a date yet?"

          The blonde girl frowned.  "Mom, the girl's aren't supposed to ask the guys this time, they're supposed to ask us."

          Suzanne smiled.  ERA was definitely at work.  "And?"

          Debi chewed her bottom lip, then stuck it out slightly as she said.  "No one's asked me."

          "Well, I'm sure they will.  Now, let's get back before the Colonel sends the Omega Squad out looking for us."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Girl-talk filled the time on the drive back to the Cottage and more than once Suzanne found herself wishing her daughter's life was just a little bit more "normal."  Growing up the only child among five adults couldn't be easy on her, but Debi hadn't complained since the first day they'd arrived.  Somehow the teenager had built her own relationship with each of the Cottage's present residents and seemed to enjoy her time with them when they could spare it.  Fighting an invading force of hostile aliens almost single-handedly took up a lot of time.

          Norton was her pseudo big brother, much to the black man's dismay at times.  Still, he'd overcome his own sort of isolation, being both black and a paraplegic, and he seemed to understand Debi's need to participate – even if it was to test his latest computer game.

          Harrison, their leader, self-proclaimed pacifist, vegetarian, and nutcase, was Debi's "strange uncle."  At least that's what Suzanne preferred to think of him as.  It beat younger sibling, although there were times she was sure the man must still be five.  Debi accepted that, too, quickly realizing when to give the man his space – and when it was okay for her to drag him into a game of twister.

          Mrs. Pennyworth, housekeeper, chef and general sanity maintenance personnel, was her doting grandmother, and she went out of her way to spoil the child.  Suzanne's own parents were dead, and she was glad that her daughter had the opportunity to grow up with a 'grandmother' in her life.  The woman was able to teach the girl several lessons she wasn't ready to accept from her mother, like the benefits of a clean room…

          The members of Omega Squad, when they weren't training or performing some of the endless duties Ironhorse had found for them, were Debi's older cousins.  They played ball with her, took her swimming, surfing, and sailing, and, more recently, indulged her in Dungeon and Dragons.

          Suzanne wondered if any of them saw the way she was growing. It wouldn't be much longer before they'd have to tell her what they were really doing.  And, it wouldn't surprise her if Debi filled in a lot of the information herself.  The girl was far from dim and Suzanne was sure that her daughter had put together several of the pieces for herself.

          Before long she really would be a young woman.  Debi was already deciding on her high school classes, designed to make her an expert in all the areas of expertise in the house – computer science, math, biology, English, history, and gym, and all honors, mind you, not the regular freshman fare.  She'd do well, too, if she stuck to it, and Suzanne had no reason to doubt her daughter's resolve.  More than anything thing Debi wanted to be a part of what they were doing.

          Suzanne prayed that Debi never had to.

          They passed the gates and the guardhouse, and drove through the scattered pines, maples and poplars to the Cottage, parking next to the Bronco.  Debi was already out the door and running toward the house before Suzanne could warn her to be careful.  With a motherly shake of her head, she climbed out of the car and followed the small blonde whirlwind.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse heard the car when it neared the Cottage parking area.  He glanced down at his watch.  Suzanne was a half-hour late.  He was going to have to have a talk with her about that –another thirty minutes and he would have dispatched several of the Omegans to look for them.  The front door burst open and he heard Debi enter, heading straight for the kitchen.  Mrs. Pennyworth said something, then the pair fell into quiet conversation.

          Suzanne entered, closing the door.

          Fine, they were home.  He could get back to work without having to split his attention.

          Reaching out, he picked up the elephant-head coffee cup from its place in front of the small snapping fire and finished the last of the latest concoction Norton had come up with.

          Ironhorse turned the page of the file he was reading and half-consciously noted that Debi had headed down the stairs to see Norton.

          The latest set of alien transmissions had him frustrated.  They were distributed across several cities in the U.S., but the supercomputer had not been able to come up with a common factor to link them together.  He wasn't having any better luck either.  He sighed and concentrated on the time intervals between the transmissions, hoping that might shed some light on what the Mor'taxans were up to.

          That information wasn't helping, either.  Debi scaled the stairs, two at a time, and headed for Harrison's office.  She must have found something special, Ironhorse acknowledged, still calculating the intervals.  He sighed.  California, North Carolina, New York…  What was the common dominator?  Large populations of weirdos…  Maybe he should talk to Blackwood.

          "Colonel?"

          The voice was soft, hesitating to intrude on his privacy, but the living room was public space, and if he was there, Debi knew it was all right to disturb him.  He looked up.

          Debi smiled, and spun around.

          A crooked grin spread across his face.  She looked beautiful.  The denim skirt, white western-cut shirt complete with fringe, the boots, Concho belt and western vest rendered her a vision right off of a modern ranch.  Even the ponytail added to the wholesome country look.

          "That's very nice, Debi," he said and saw her beam in response to his praise.

          He knew she looked at him as a father of sorts.  It was something that both flattered and awed the military man.  He'd never thought of himself as father material, and he wanted very much to make Debi's life the best he could for as long as he could.  She was their future, a future he was willing to risk his life for on a daily basis if it could make a difference for Debi and those like her.

          "Thanks," she said, picking up one booted foot and looking at the shining black leather.  "The boots are the best, and Mom even made me get a bra," she added, looking down at her chest and wrinkling her noise.  "Bumps," she sighed, then spun around and bounded off, saying, "I have to go see if I can find that bandanna!"

          Ironhorse felt the blood rush to his face, making his ears burn.  Okay, so there were a few things about fatherhood, or even pseudo-fatherhood, he was unprepared to deal with!

          Suzanne heard her daughter's comment to the Colonel and stifled a laugh.  _Now_ that _should have tongue-tied one Special Forces commander_ , she thought.

          Walking to the living room entryway she forced giggles back for a second time.  Ironhorse sat in his chair, his face red, his file folder forgotten, and his coffee cup dangling from a crooked finger.  She was glad it was empty.

          He looked up at the microbiologist and instantly darkened by several shades.

          Suzanne smiled.  "She is growing up, isn't she."

          Ironhorse simply nodded.  Even West Point hadn't prepared him for this!  He'd been booby-trapped by a thirteen-year-old.  The girl had launched a sneak attack, and she wasn't even aware of the direct hit she'd scored.

          He took a deep breath and met Suzanne's eyes squarely.  "Yes," he breathed.  "She is."

          Suzanne turned, laughing, and headed out to find her daughter.


End file.
